


Be My This One's Meant To Last

by serendipityinwords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends to Lovers, F/M, Pining, also there's some focus on bellamy's home life, but with fanon octavia because actual octavia sux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke fall for each each other when they're eighteen. But they're never eighteen at the same time, and even the uncomplicated gets complicated when you're in love with your best friend. </p><p>Or.</p><p>Bellamy Blake is more than capable of keeping things with Clarke platonic. She's his friend. He hasn't had one of those in a long time. But, of course, he falls in love with her anyway.</p><p>Bellamy Blake is more than capable of being in love with Clarke AND keeping things between them platonic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My This One's Meant To Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part fic. The first part will be from Bellamy's pov and the the second, Clarke's. As a result, full disclosure: it's mostly just Bellamy pining and not noticing Clarke's feelings for him. Because he's a mess, obviously.
> 
> Anyway, title from be my asleep at last by the waillin jennys.

Bellamy turns seventeen a day after his mother dies. There really isn’t much he can do. The custody battle was over before it started, and Bellamy and Octavia are unceremoniously left under their godfather’s care.

He’s angry, he realizes as they are driven away from their shitty old apartment. Furious. It chokes him the whole time they’re relocating to a stranger’s house, days after she was hit by that drunk driver. And to be perfectly honest, the fact that that feeling clearly outweighs his grief, makes him sick to the stomach. He’s guilty and angry and barely seventeen with a twelve year old holding onto the hem of his shirt as they wait inside Marcus Kane’s house.

So, of course, he stays quiet.

Mr Kane welcomes them in with a polite smile and a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. He doesn’t fully believe either.

He feels a little robbed, his sister tucked into his arms as she sobs. He thinks of crying. Thinks of screaming of cursing or _something_. But in the end, he stays quiet. Marcus Kane is staring at him from the corner of his eyes, and he really can’t afford a breakdown.

They’re already imposing on him. He hasn’t said anything, but he knows. Marcus can't be happy with this arrangement. Bellamy doesn’t even know how exactly his mother knows Marcus Kane. He’d introduced himself as their godfather and had all the documents to prove it. He even has picture of Bellamy as a kid, building sandcastles with him while his mother smiles fondly at the both of them. It makes him nauseous. He has vague memories of going to visit him up in the city where he lived but those stopped as soon as his own mother started feeling like a visitor. But he isn’t about to deny them a roof over their heads. Especially when his only other option is putting Octavia and himself in a foster home as the social worker assigned to them, Anya, had made it abundantly clear.

It doesn’t mean he has to trust him though.

He feels itchy under his gaze. He feels around in his pocket for his phone where Anya had given him her personal number, in case anything goes wrong. He swallows and brings his eyes up, level with Marcus’. He drops his stare, and Bellamy feels a moment of triumph. Then he remembers his mom is dead and he and his thirteen year old sister are stuck in a practical stranger’s home. _Yeah_ , he thinks wryly _, their lives suck._

There’s another thirty minutes of silence punctuated by Octavia’s choking sobs when he finally speaks. “Do you kids needs anything?”

Bellamy wants to laugh at the absurdity of the question. It’s too little and a lot at the same time. Weirdly, it’s how removed and clinical Kane sounds that really reminds him that they’re on their own in all the ways that matter. It makes him want to cry more than anything else that’s happened.

Octavia shakes her head against his chest. It takes a moment for him to realize that Kane can’t see them. He passes the message along.

“We’re good.”

He nods. So, that’s done.

Bellamy’s room looks like something out of an IKEA catalogue, and the newness of it all kind of irks him. But he also knows how to be practical. This room doesn’t leak or smell like dust and the walls aren’t paper thin, so that already means that it’s better than his old room. And while his old room had walls that were maimed by Octavia’s crayons and a floor that squeaked whenever he stepped on it and carpet stained with grape juice, it felt like something close to home. This feels like a trap.

Octavia, on the other hand, loves her room immediately. _Without choking on pride or guilt_ , he thinks a little enviously. The room’s painted purple and the walls are lined with luminescent butterfly decal stickers. But, he’s glad she likes it.

Marcus discusses logistics with them the next day. The basic stuff like their allergies and food preferences, how much allowance they need, what classes they’re going to take. It’s all clinical enough to momentarily distract him from his dead mother and crushing responsibilities. But he has to think about it later, when Octavia’s asleep and the world gets a little too quiet.

Marcus Kane is sending them to better schools than his mother had bothered to look up. Their allowances double. He probably doesn’t even _need_ a job. It’s with a start that he realizes that their lives are probably going to be better with her dead. He’s not exactly happy about it, but he’s not exactly sad about it either.

Kane’s not rich, but he’s very well-off. That doesn’t mean all of this costs nothing. It’s a sizeable amount. One he could have used for something other than providing for two angry, orphaned teenagers. _That_ makes him angry.

The next day, he gets a job at the Starbucks near their place. He passes the rest of summer making coffee and in Octavia’s room, listening to her talk about every new kid she’s met. Who she yelled at that day. That one guy she has a crush on. That blonde girl who draws like she’s creating worlds in her head. Really, she’s doing much better than he is. _Thank god._

Summer feels all too long and all too short at the same. When it’s over, he’s glad. All the free time, despite Octavia and his job, was starting to suffocate him. Even before his mother died, he wasn’t used to staying still. And now, the urge to keep moving is stronger than ever. He has the distinct feeling that if he stops, he’ll drown.

~

Bellamy had considered the fact that he and Octavia would both be in separate schools in a peripheral way. He knew it’d happen, logically, but he’s hit with a tidal wave of anxiety when the day comes. It’s weird. He’s spent months leaving Octavia to her own devices but the idea of spending the whole day apart because they have to, terrifies him. Octavia is still in the sixth grade and he’d be continuing his senior year in high school. They had been that way _before_ but the after was a whole different story.

She was going to be alone.

He gives her a sidelong look as they ride the bus together. She’s tucked into herself but she has that look in her eyes. Like she’s convincing herself that everything would be fine and she’s almost succeeded, but not quite. Knowing her, she would. She’s been getting better. She eats without his prompting, even reminding him to eat every now and then. He wonders, with a jolt, whether he should be more worried about himself.

He’d been so worried thinking of Octavia, he hasn’t had any time to process any of this. It feels like something inevitable, when his throat feels like it’s closing up. He’s alone and afraid of it. He swallows and promises himself that he’ll let himself think about it later.

He knows he’s lying.

“Bell,” Octavia hisses. He looks up at her, surprised. “You need to stop scowling at everyone. Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

He realizes she’s right. He stops only because realizing he’s doing it makes him feel like he’s angry about something, which. He’s not. Definitely not. “I’m just looking, O.”

She rolls her eyes in a way that makes her look distinctly like a teenager. It scares him a little. Makes him more than a little sad. “You need to stop looking, then. You look like a crazy person.” She looks around sharply. “I look like I’m related to a crazy person.”

“Good, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

She scoffs at him. “Maybe they’ll leave your antisocial ass alone. I want friends.”

“Whatever,” he retorts. It makes him feel like a teenager. And that makes him sad too.

When her stop arrives, his stomach plummets a little. She shuffles past him. If he didn’t know her as well he did, she’d look confident. But he does, so he sees her hands shake before she clenches them.

“O, just be careful,” he yells after her. If she’s embarrassed by him, she doesn’t show it. She grins, shark-like, and it eases something in him. This is familiar. This is good.

“When am I not?”

~

There’s a girl in his history class. He tries not to notice her because he’s done so well _not_ noticing people his whole first day. But he can’t help it. She’s definitely come into the Starbucks he worked at least once and he’d noticed her then. She’s very pretty and very blonde and very restless. This time though, she’s mouthing the answers to all the questions the teachers asks, without actually raising her hand. It’s more than a little distracting.

“Stop staring at the girl, it’s getting creepy,” Miller (last name, not first) says. He turns to glare at him. Miller’s the kind of pretty he’d be interested in if he weren’t such an asshole. So, he guesses that makes him perfect friend material. It’s only been a day, he doesn’t want to rush things.

“Shut up, Miller,” he mutters.

“Her name is Clarke Griffin,” he continues unbothered. _Yeah, definitely his kind of guy_. “Cool girl. A little bit of a princess.”

“I didn’t ask.”

But she smirks to herself in private, so yeah. He files that information away for later.

“You going to do something about it?”

He considers. Yeah, she’s cute and clearly knows all about the French revolution. But he oddly doesn’t care. Or he does, but it’s taking a back seat in his head. He needs a break. With his sister and fast impending graduation, his life is kind of a mess.

“No.”

Miller shrugs. “Suit yourself. She’s out of your league anyway.”

 

When he gets home, he slips on a shirt from the time before Kane, well-worn and a little too thin. It’s a kind of silent rebellion. Just to prove to himself that he hadn’t completely forgotten about his old life. It’s not much, but he likes it. It’s comfortable.

He regrets it, though, when the doorbell rings and he opens it to Clarke Griffin.

“Hey,” she breathes.

He gapes at her a little longer than he should. He can’t really help it. She looks like something out of a dream in a light sundress he doesn’t think she was wearing in class. She feels foreign, like they’re not of the same world. Neat to his mess. It’s a lot. It takes him a few more seconds to realize that there’s a hot girl standing at the other side of his door and he’s still gaping. He shakes his head. Bellamy glances down at himself briefly but decides not to bother. She, at least, doesn’t seem particularly hung up on it, looking everywhere but at him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Can I—“She clears her throat. “Um. Is Octavia home?”

“My sister?” he asks, perplexed. He wasn’t sure what to expect but it definitely isn’t this. _What's Octavia gotten herself into now?_

“Your sister,” she repeats slowly. “I told her I was dropping by. She’s totally cool with it.”

He doesn’t exactly think she’s lying but it’s still a weird thing to say. “Um,” is all he comes up with.

“God, I’m not doing a good job explaining this to you, am I?”

He shakes his head slowly.

She ducks her head, a little shy. It makes him smile. “I’m friends with Octavia.”

He sighs deeply and dramatically, even for him. “Of course you are.”

Of course Octavia would. If she notices the tinge of annoyance in his voice, she doesn’t say anything. She looks up at him and steels herself. He’s smiles a little wider. “Long story short, I need an excuse to get out of my house and Octavia suggested I come by.”

Bellamy takes one looks at the solid gold pendant hanging at the hollow of her throat and her clean shoes and goes hard for a second. Then he remembers, they aren’t dirt poor anymore and she hasn’t really done anything. He relaxes slightly but he’s still a little tenser than he was. He doesn’t know how not to be.

“She’s up in her room,” he finally concedes. “Come on in.”

She smiles at him and he smiles back. It’s not really her fault this is happening. He just really wishes it wasn’t.

Besides, he’d much rather yell at Octavia.

“Wait here. I’ll go get her.” She looks at him like she thinks he might be lying. She must decide he isn’t because she just nods and plops down onto their couch, that probably costs more than his old room. He shoves down the familiar bitterness. It’s really not the time.

Octavia’s already out of her room before he can get to her as if she’d already sensed it. He wouldn’t be surprised. She reads him the best, she probably felt the irritation radiating off him or something.

“Octavia,” he hisses. He glances behind them to where Clarke is pretending not to be able to hear them. He rolls his eyes and shoves Octavia into the kitchen where they’re safely out of earshot.

“Before you say anything, Bellamy, I just wanted to help her out. Her home life’s complicated.”

“More than ours?”

Octavia raises an eyebrow. Fine, maybe it isn’t that complicated. They live with their recluse godfather with whom they’ve barely exchange a few sentences collectively and lead generally better lives than when their mother was alive. It isn’t that hard. Boring? Lonely? Maybe. Sad? Definitely. Not complicated.

He huffs in frustration. “How do you even know her?”

“We met on the swings,” she says conversationally.

“Oh, a teenager talking to children at the playground? Comforting.”

She crosses her arms against her chest and glares. God, he hates when this happens. “She says she’s in your history class. You know her.”

Vaguely, he registers that she’s noticed him too and the pleasure he derives from that is almost enough to override his annoyance. Almost. “Barely.”

“Come on, Bellamy,” she pouts. He softens. It isn’t really a big deal. She’s Octavia’s friend. Her much older, very pretty friend, who happens to have noticed him. As if she notices him softening she says, “She’s nice and really cute.”

Yeah, she is.

“Fine,” Bellamy grinds out. “But when her secret agent parents kill us when they think we’ve kidnapped her, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll take that responsibility,” she says solemnly.

“Brat.”

Octavia sits next to her, adjusting herself so she’s cross legged on the couch. Bellamy considers joining them, but he still hates that goddamn couch. He settles for leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, instead.

“Bell says you’re good.”

“Not in those exact words,” he points out. Octavia glares at him but he ignores her, choosing to look at Clarke instead. She looks lost in thought. He has to ask.

“Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have other friends you can hang out with?”

“Bellamy!” Octavia yells, offended on Clarke's behalf. Clarke looks up at him, startled, like she’d just noticed him.

“Not any that’d understand.”

“And we do?” he asks.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry about my brother. He was raised in the wild,” Octavia says, pointed. He rolls his eyes.

“If you have to know, my mother thinks I’m babysitting your sister.”

He freezes. “You lied to your mother?”

Clarke bites her lip. It’s distracting but not enough. “She wouldn’t care.” She sounds sad enough that it gives him pause. “Look, if you want me to leave—“

“No,” he says surprising everyone, including himself. He pauses, wondering what on earth he’s getting himself into. “You can stay.”

It’s such a bad decision but she’s smiling at him, and he has a sudden, sharp urge to see it more. It’s a nice smile.

Bellamy eventually does sit on the goddamn couch next to his sister. Octavia says she and Clarke are friends but they don’t actually talk. She just sits there playing videogames while Clarke sketches in the sketchbook she’d apparently brought with her. He thinks she might have mentioned her in passing. The blonde girl who draws? Out of all the rich blondes in the suburbs who has an affinity for drawing, it’s Clarke Griffin that Octavia picks to befriend.  


Octavia stands up dusting cheeto dust off her jeans as she goes. “Clarke, I’m getting food. You want anything?”

She doesn’t look up. “Water.”

“Sure.” Octavia turns to him as if it’s a chore. “Bell?”

“Water. Cold,” he answers, just to annoy her.

She rolls her eyes and saunters away.

It’s quiet for a second. He hears the scratch of her pencil against paper and his own foot tapping without his prompting. It’s already too much. “So,” he says.

“So.”

“Are you ever going to tell me about your mother?”

She stops sketching and glances up at him from behind her sketchbook. “Do you want to know?”

“If you want to.” He can make out her raised eyebrows, maybe even a little amusement.

“I’ll tell you,” she decides. “Eventually.”

It’s more than he hoped for. He’s smiling again, before he realizes he’s doing it. “Cool.”

This time, he’s sure she’s smiling too. “Cool.”

Octavia is taking a lot longer than necessary. He’s sure she got distracted, or more likely, just wanted to fuck with him. _Brat_.

“So, your parents are dead?” Clarke asks, blunt. It’s refreshing if he’s being honest.

He snorts. “Yeah. And yours? Just awful?”

She giggles and looks surprised by it. “One of them is dead and the other’s _just awful_.”

He winces “That’s almost worse.”

She laughs again, and he feels inexplicably warm. Like he wouldn’t mind doing that over and over. It’s weird, of course, he barely knows her.

And yet.

Of course, Octavia takes that moment to arrive with Clarke and his lukewarm water (goddamn brat). He recognizes that smirk and groans internally. He’s raised a menace.

 “I can’t believe I was gone 3 minutes and you’re already better friends with my brother,” Octavia cries, plopping down between them ungracefully. It’s because it’s a tighter fit does he realizes that they’d been inching closer to each other.

Clarke flashes him a grin and his heart falters a little.

That should have been his first clue.

It happens four times a week. She rides the bus with them, they do their homework in silence for the first hour, they’ll watch whatever’s on TV and then, they talk. Although, as Octavia likes to points out, it’s mostly Bellamy and Clarke talking to each other while Octavia plays videogames. And it’s nice in a companiable way. He loves her company and he’s pretty sure his crush on her is gone, or at least, gone _enough_ that it doesn’t bother him. They’re friends. And he hasn’t had one of those in a long time.

He knows her. Which, again, doesn’t really happen. He knows about people. But he _knows_ Clarke. He knows how to make her laugh. He knows she takes her coffee black with one sugar, because she’s pretentious like that. He knows she draws but prefers painting. He knows she speaks stilted French the way he speaks broken Tagalog. He knows she’s smart and caring.

They’re _friends_.

But it’s still weird. It’s not like they don’t acknowledge each other in school. Whenever they pass by each other, Clarke waves or smiles or nods, so it’s not like he feels ignored. But she hangs out with people who just seem… different. They’re cleaner, more polite. Not rough around the edges. Clarke and him are different people, and it’s clearer than ever when she’s around them. Clarke notices him looking from across the lunch room and smiles. He smiles back, a little stiff, shoving the bitter taste down.

Miller looks up from him book and gives him a curious look.

“You know the princess?”

“Yeah,” he says, “She’s friends with Octavia.” He swallows down the guilt. _How different is he from Clarke if he doesn’t want to admit that they’re friends?_

“Oh,” Miller responds, suddenly disinterested. He goes back to his book leaving Bellamy vaguely uncomfortable.

Raven pokes him in the ribs.

“Ow,” he yelps, “What was that for?”

Raven’s looking at him severely. Which, for the record, is both scary and confusing. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve it but, to be fair, he does do a lot of stupid things. “Why’d you lie to him?” she demands.

Bellamy frowns. “About what?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You hang out with Clarke every day and she’s _Octavia’s_ friend?”

“How do you know that?” He whips his head to look at Clarke who’s engaged in deep conversation with some guy he doesn’t know. “How do you know Clarke?” he whispers, as if Clarke might hear him from half-way across the noisy room.

Raven heaves a sigh. “We used to date the same guy.”

“Um.”

“He cheated on me with her. We didn’t know. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” he mutters. They seem to have it under control. But still, he can’t imagine the idiot who would knowingly piss off Clarke _and_ Raven. Bellamy looks away from Clarke and turns his attention to Raven, who’s studying him in a way that makes him squirm. _Yeah, that guy was a fucking idiot._ “Did she tell you about us?” he finally asks.

“Why? Are you trying to keep it a secret?”

“No,” he says carefully, “I thought she was.”

“You’re an idiot,” she decides, “She cares about you a lot. It’s been a while for her. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t.” He tries not to sound too frustrated but it’s a little unimaginable to him that he would hurt her. Of course, Raven couldn’t know that. Clarke probably doesn’t either. He’s not the best at emotions. But, to be fair, neither is she.

Raven must see the earnestness on his face because she softens. “Then, tell her that. She thinks you’re embarrassed of her.”

He tries to imagine it. Clarke with her pretty face and sharp tongue and kind smile. He can’t possibly embarrassed of something so good. “That’s ridiculous.”

Raven bites her lip, as if trying to prevent a smile. “Between the both of us, that’s right up her alley.”

 

~

Bellamy is by his locker when Clarke stops by. She watches him stuff books into his book bag with an easy smile. “Hey,” she says when he’s done.

He swivels around to face her, grinning. “Hi.”

“I thought you were trying to keep us a secret,” Clarke admits, ducking her head.

“Oh.” He scrubs at the back of his neck. He has never had a proper conversation with her in front of anyone other than Octavia. It’s so stupid. He should talk to her whenever he wants. He _loves_ talking to her. “It’s just. You never talked to us during lunch or spent time with us—“

 “I kind of thought you didn’t want to be seen with me. I have that princess reputation.”

 “That’s dumb,” he supplies. It’s not like he hadn’t bought into that story for a hot second, but spending any amount of time should be enough to debunk that. She looks at him, clearly amused.

“You just don’t know how filthy rich my family is.”

“Once, that would have changed my mind,” he admits, “But what can I say, Griffin. You grew on me.”

"Really?"

He nods, serious. "Like mold."

The way she grins at him leaves him kind of stunned. There’s a kind of dim satisfaction that comes from seeing her smile. The urge to keep making her smile is back in full force. And again. Weirdly, he doesn’t mind that much anymore.

“Okay.”

~

 

The next day, Clarke sits at his table along with a guy he doesn’t really know. She looks around, nervous as he’s ever seen her. He places a hand over hers and squeezes.

“This is Clarke,” he says, “My friend.” She smiles up at him and settles against his side promptly.

Miller snorts and rolls his eyes at him. Bellamy’s just glad he’s keeping his mouth shut. “I’m Miller.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Clarke. “We take English together. You’re really into Shakespeare.”

Bellamy grins. “Is he?”

Miller mutters, “shut up,” but doesn’t do anything to refute the claim.

“Raven!” Clarke exclaims. _Right_ , he thinks. _Same boyfriend._

Raven grins. “Babe!” It’s the most positive emotion he’s seen out of Raven in the weeks he’s known her.

He’s mostly just glad he’s not the only one affected by Clarke’s charm.

“Finn,” Raven adds at Miller’s quizzical look.

“Ah.” Miller settles further into his seat and dips his fry into a truly indecent amount of ketchup. Clarke and Bellamy makes a face at each other.

“Wells,” the boy beside Clarke says.

“Jaha?” Raven asks. Her tone makes Bellamy wince. She’s hated Thelonious Jaha ever since he made a condescending comment about how Raven couldn’t possibly afford college all on her own. It happened weeks ago, when they were just settling into their friendship. Bellamy _gets_ it. He isn’t as poor as he used to be, but any comment about how his shoes looks old or how his phone can’t support that app, however well-intentioned, scathes him. But he also knows that Clarke wouldn’t hang out with anyone like that. Raven must know it too, because she relaxes. But not much.

“Yeah,” he goes on, oblivious, “My dad’s the principal.”

Miller, clearly noticing the tension says, “Cool.”

“I’m glad Clarke is branching out,” Wells pipes up. “It’s been exhausting just hanging out with her.”

Miller grins. “I thought Bellamy would never speak to anyone other than us ever.”

Clarke leans into him but he’s already moving toward her anyway. “I hate my friends.”

He nods. “Yeah, they’re all awful.”

They’re really not.

~

It’s 3 months into his friendship with Clarke Griffin and she’s over at his house again. They’re playing Mario kart and Octavia’s steadfastly ignoring their embarrassing enthusiasm over the game up in her room. He loves his sister but he’s glad he can spend some time with Clarke alone. Even if all she’s doing is swearing at him. With them merging their friend groups, they barely get this anymore. 

Bellamy’s winning when she pauses the game. He blinks.

“I was winning—“ he stops when he sees Clarke worry her lip. She looks nervous. He hasn’t seen her like this in a while.

“Is something wrong?” Bellamy asks.

“I think I like girls,” she blurts.

“Oh.” He blinks. “Just girls?” Because, Finn. There’s no other reason he’s asking, really.

She exhales. “No, I like guys too. But I also really like girls.”

He smiles at her gently, and she relaxes almost immediately.

“Any girl in particular?”

Bellamy’s surprised to see her flush a little. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not the straightest ruler in the pencil case either,” he tells her when she pauses a little too long.

She buries her head into the crook of his neck to laugh at him, her whole body shaking with it. He tries not to smile. He fails.

“I’m telling you something important!”

She heaves a little before stopping and she looks up at him. Her smile is wide and real, and makes his chest ache a little. “I’m glad you told me. Even if that was the dorkiest possible way you could have.” He grins at her. “Just guys?” she asks, sobering a little.

He considers and realizes with a jolt that this is the first time he’s explaining it to someone. In the past he’d just date whoever he wanted to. He’d never bothered to explain it to anyone else. But with Clarke? This was a part of him and she should know. He trusts her completely. “No. I mean, I guess I don’t see gender? I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out.”

“That’s great,” she says. He can tell that she means it too. He grins at her. "I’m glad you told me.”

“Glad enough to tell me who that girl is?”

“Niylah,” she replies, without hesitation.

He knows her. She isn’t his type but to be fair, he isn’t hers. From what he’s seen, Clarke is definitely her type. There’s a mild surprise and something else he can’t put his finger on, in the idea that her crush may be requited. Mostly, he’s happy for her. “Jenkins? Nice.”

“You?”

“I’m at that stage where people are really hot and I’m sad about it.”

She’s slumped into his couch by now, completely at ease. She looks at home. The couch is really starting to grown on him “Sucks.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m an independent pansexual who don’t need no significant other.” She snorts and buries her head into his shoulder. 

“Clarke?” he calls.

“I hadn’t told anyone other than you. That I’m bi.”

“Me neither.”

She lifts her head to look at him. He sees fondness he knows he’s mirroring.

“We really like each other, huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Let’s just skip ahead to the “If both us are single by thirty, we’ll get married” thing.”

“Every girl’s dream proposal,” Clarke deadpans.

“Only for you,” he promises, solemn and she snorts.

“When you’re thirty or when I’m thirty?”

He pretends to mull it over. “You.”

“Deal,” she agrees. “Hey Bellamy?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to kick your ass.”  

He makes a noise of confusion when she unpauses the game without warning. Bellamy half-heartedly yells at her as she cackles like a villain.

She wins, of course. It’s hardly fair. She’s a dirty cheater but her smile is really pretty and he really likes to see her happy so he finds that he doesn’t mind that much.

Bellamy and Miller go over to Raven’s friend Monty’s house to get drunk because Monty’s having a party and he makes really shitty moonshine that’s also kind of good and they’re seniors who are always stressed. Clarke comes with because she doesn’t know how to take it easy and because, of course she would.

Bellamy doesn’t want to think about what comes after high school. His grades have been great and Indra, their guidance counsellor, thinks he’s got a real shot at a scholarship. But he’d have to leave Octavia for that. He doesn’t want to think about that at all.

He gets drunk.

Bellamy is sitting on Monty’s pink, fluffy beanbag and Clarke is settled in next to him, her head on his shoulder and her legs in his lap. He’s pretty sure she’s humming cotton-eyed Joe into the crook of his neck.

Clarke is also drunk.

“Bellamy,” she murmurs.

“Hmm.”

She looks up at him and squints and he squints back. He’s either really drunk or she’s really bright. It could be both.

“Bellamy, I promise when I get my hot girlfriend—“

“Niylah has a name, Clarke.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to say something.” It gets hilarious to watch her struggle with what she’s saying. But he isn’t exactly at his best either, so he doesn’t laugh. He’s self-aware. Plus, he can be a supportive friend when he wants to.

“As I was saying, even if I start dating Niylah, I’ll always be your girl.”

Bellamy smiles slowly. “My girl?” It has a nice ring to it. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“I’m your girl everyone!” she yells. Miller whoops in a way that’s both enthusiastic and casual and he registers a vague “Yeah, you are!” from Raven.

“Make sure she’s hydrated, Blake!” Wells shouts from where he’s presumably trying to flirt with Raven. He’s bad at flirting. It’s a testament to how much Raven likes him that it’s actually working. _Of course, I will_ , Bellamy thinks. But Wells isn’t paying attention anymore so Bellamy’s sure he already knows.

Clarke gulps down the water and passes the bottle to Bellamy before she leans in closer and whispers, “Mostly yours.” Clarke frowns deep in thought before adding, “I can’t wait to date Niylah and get better at oral. I’m really not sure what I’m doing so far.”

It’s the kind of thing he would fixate on normally but he’s still stuck on _mostly yours_. He mostly spends the rest of the night wondering why the words sound so good. He doesn’t think she belongs to him, of course. But Clarke likes him a lot and the thought warms him from head to toe. He’s surprised to find that he isn’t too stressed about school anymore. And it has less to do with the alcohol than he’d expected.

It’s a perfectly warm night and Bellamy is fully prepared to stay indoors and read when Clarke calls him out. He doesn’t want to go, but he does. Of course, he does.

They go bowling and their friends tag along because they secretly love Bellamy and actually enjoy his company. Bellamy brings Octavia because he’s been feeling kind of guilty for not spending as much time with her. Octavia makes a show of not wanting to come but she does, because she not-so-secretly loves him too.

“We’re going to win,” Clarke says as soon as they split into their respective teams. Bellamy’s got Wells, Jasper and Raven and Clarke’s got Monty, Octavia and Miller.

“It would be a shame if I just went ahead and...” he pauses for dramatic effect which makes Clarke rolls her eyes like he knew she would, “won.”

“Not with your terrible hand-eye coordination, you’re not,” she retorts.

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Well, at least I have heart.”

“That you do,” she agrees.

Bellamy is actually pretty shit at bowling, which he’d kind of expected. What he hadn’t expected was Wells being absolutely amazing at it. And even though Raven limps on her bad leg a little when the bowling ball is extra heavy, she manages to get all the pins. It’s probably some science shit. It’s not his fault knowing all about Alexander the Great doesn’t help with sports. Jasper isn’t that great either, but overall, they have a pretty solid team.

But so does Clarke. Miller and Clarke are bowling machines. Monty is the worst he’s ever seen. But Clarke loves him enough to let her frustration show. Octavia is mostly bored, except when it’s her turn and she gets most of the pins, probably because she doesn’t want him to win. _Brat,_ he thinks fondly. It doesn’t help that Clarke is terrifyingly competitive. But, so is Bellamy. It ends up a pretty close game but Wells ultimately scores the winning strike.

Clarke doesn’t even get upset. They all agree the strike was pretty awesome. She’s probably going to use her best friend points to get him on the team the next time. (The only reason he wanted to be on Bellamy’s team in the first place was Raven anyway) The fact that there is probably going to be a next time makes him feel warm in the chest.

“Wow, you did great,” he tells Wells.

“Clarke and I used to play when we were kids. Her dad was amazing. He taught us most of what I know.”

His interest piques when he hears about her dad. Clarke always skips over the topic or ignores it completely. He's never pushed it either. It isn’t his place. She doesn't push about his mom. He pauses, waits for Wells to continue, but he doesn’t.

“You and Clarke have known each other for a long time, huh?” he asks, instead. It’s safer and honestly, he just wants to get to know the guy. Wells is great.

A smile tugs at his lips, like he’s laughing at an inside joke. “Oh yeah. We’re pretty close. But now, she has you.” It would sound vicious coming from anyone else, but from Wells, it sounds like he's just _glad_. Maybe even relieved.

“Hey, you guys aren’t dating, are you?”

Bellamy sputters a little. He has to wonder why his heart starts racing and his palms starts to feel sweaty. He shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

He must be sick. That must be it.

Wells look at him a little amused. “Because you guys are pretty terrible at platonic,” he teases.

The thing is, he’s heard Raven and Miller and Octavia and even Monty tease them about a potential romantic relationship. Fuck, Jasper calls them mom and dad, sometimes. But hearing it from Wells, for all his seriousness and practicality, makes it sound a little inevitable. Bellamy is flushing, and he feels like an idiot.

“Well, we are,” he replies, voice suspiciously defensive to his own ears.

Wells raises both his eyebrows. Bellamy wants to crawl in a hole and _die_.

“Alright then.”

“Let’s go, guys,” he hears Clarke calls out from behind them. He starts a little under Well’s slight scrutiny. Clarke jogs to catch up with them, coming up between them and she slings either arm around Bellamy and Wells. He relaxes almost immediately.

She smiles at him and he smiles back. And, just like that, it's easy again.

Wells and Clarke start talking about bowling techniques or something when Bellamy starts checking out. He hears Octavia chat with Raven animatedly about the new Pokémon app that’s going to come out. He feels the light evening air caress his face. But he’s still always painfully aware of Clarke warmth as she’s tucked against him. It’s comforting. He doesn’t think beyond that. That’s all he has to think about anyway.

He goes to bed, thinking of her. He wonders what it all means. He decides it’s Clarke and they’re friends and there’s nothing more.

He’s at the edge of sleep when he starts to feel like maybe he’s lying.

~

Clarke asks Niylah out first because Raven said she was too scared to. Honestly, it’s the most Clarke way that could have happened. Niylah said yes because— Clarke is Clarke. He’s happy for her, he is. But Clarke is starting to spend less time with them. And, of course, she would. She has someone else in her life and she doesn’t owe them anything. It’s not like she ignores them. They still spend time together, but. Something’s changed. He’s happy for her. He’s not too happy about that.

“So, you and Niylah?” he asks, three days after Raven off-handedly mentions that they’re officially together.

Clarke looks up from her book. “Yeah. She’s really great.”

“She seems great,” he says.

“She is.”

“I just wish you’d told me earlier,” Bellamy says scrubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t think. Sorry.”

He nods stiffly. It’s awkward. He never thought he’d feel like that with her. Ever. It’s mostly been natural. Flowing conversation. Easy smiles. Inside jokes. But this— It’s strange. It makes him feel like something is ending.

There’s a second where he thinks she’s going to say something else. Or he’s going to make a joke and she’s going to dissolve into laughter and everyone’s going to stare. But she doesn’t and he doesn’t and it’s quiet.

There’s at least another fifteen minutes to chemistry but he still says, “I’m heading to class.”

She opens her mouth and closes it. “Yeah.”

He leaves before he has time to process what just happened.

Yeah, he’s really happy for her.

~

It doesn’t happen too often. Which is good, he hates it. He likes her a lot. He probably loves her. He doesn’t ever want to not be able to talk to her. But it still _happens_. Sometimes when he sees her with Niylah. Sometimes when he doesn’t. It’s been going on for a week. It makes him feel more tired than usual. He wants to shake himself and her but he doesn’t know what to say or what he’s admitting. But it feels like something bad will happen when he does realize it.

“What was that?” Octavia asks him after Clarke leaves. He knows what she’s talking about. They had another one of those awful, stilted conversations. This is the first time it’s happened in front of someone else. Normally, their friends would have picked off from wherever they’d left off and they’d look at each other in quiet relief. But Octavia wasn’t having any of it. She watched them like a hawk struggling to keep a normal conversation going. Eventually, they’d given up and Clarke muttered some excuse and left. Bellamy let her.

It all left a bad taste in his mouth. He never wanted it to happen again. But he can’t ignore the distance that’s been there.

“I have never seen you so cold with anyone and it’s _you_.”              

He lies back down, suddenly immeasurably tired. “It’s nothing. Just, maybe—“

“Bellamy, don’t be an idiot,” she snaps.

“What?”

“You’re jealous!” she yells like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Something drops in his stomach. It’s not like he hadn’t thought of it. But he always shut the thought down so fast, it barely stayed. “No. We don’t like each other that way,” he says, slow.

“Is that why you can’t look Clarke in the eye when she talks about her girlfriend. Jesus, you probably can’t even say it.”

“Say what? Clarke is dating Niylah.” And it hits him. He hated saying that. A lot. He rolls the words over and over in his head. Each time, it gets worse. The full weight of how much he’s been ignoring strikes him. He’s such an idiot. “Wow, you’re right.”

Octavia blinks at him. “That was easier than I thought. I was about to go on a rant about how obviously you’re into her.”

“Give me a little credit.” He rubs at his face, frustrated more than anything. Maybe now that he knows, he won’t be a dick to Clarke anymore. It’s good that he’s accepted it. But, god, it fucking sucks.

Octavia’s face softens by degrees. “Bellamy—“

“It’s fine. It’s just a crush. I’ll get over it,” he lies.

Octavia considers him for a second and nods.

He has to.

It’s much easier now that he knows. He shuts down any part of him that is being unsupportive. He’s fully aware that he overdoes the support thing, decorating Clarke’s locker with the colors of the bi flag the other day when Murphy told her that she should just say she’s a lesbian and get it over with. But it made her smile and that’s all that matters.

Also, there might be a chance that he’s overcompensating for the fact that he has feelings for her, but that’s an aside.

He turns eighteen a day later.

“Meet me at the parking lot once you’re done,” Clarke whispers to him once his last class is over.

“Okay,” he says slowly.

He squints at the bright day as he watches Clarke drive in in a car he didn’t know she had.

“Get in.”

He frowns at her. “Clarke—“

“Do you trust me?”

He exhales slowly. “Yeah. But you don’t get to use that on me again. It’s a one-time thing in all friendships.”

She’s wearing shades but he can practically feel her eye-roll. “So, let’s go.”

He gets into the car. It smells new and unused and Clarke’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. He waits a couple of seconds before she starts to drive. “If I ask you where you’re taking me, are you going to ignore me? Because, don’t get me wrong, I trust you and all, but this is weird.”

She stays silent for a few seconds so all he can hear is the air conditioner whirring and the car’s engine rumbling. It’s nice, but Clarke still has that death grip on the wheel and it’s starting to worry him.

“Have I told you about my shitty home life?” he hears her ask.

“No,” he replies tentatively.

“My dad died a year ago. Well, it’s probably around 18 months now.”

He pauses, considering what to say. “I’m sorry,” he settles on.

“Yeah, that sucked. He was kind of my best friend, along with Wells, of course. He understood me. Never forced me to be anything I didn’t want to be.”

Bellamy starts to smile a little. He didn’t have that. He wished it for Octavia before her dad left too. But he’s glad Clarke had it. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” A small smile starts to form on her face. It’s a little heart-breaking but mostly, it’s nice. “Anyway, he died in a mugging. Because the mugger panicked and shot him, apparently. You know where I was?”

He’s almost certain he doesn’t want to hear it. Her voice is already cracking and she sounds so much in pain, it breaks his heart.

But he still asks because he’s sure she wants him to. “Where?”

“In fucking Australia. I was visiting a friend. He died a day before I boarded the plane home.”

“That’s not your fault,” she says with a sudden conviction that startles them both. But it’s true. She must know that.

“I know. Intellectually, I mean. The heart’s a little slow.” She huffs out a humourless laugh, and Bellamy looks away. “My mother, she didn’t want to tell me until I got home because she didn’t want me to worry. I mean, she barely let me go on my own. I think she was afraid I would do something out of grief, or something.” She exhales shakily. “I was expecting my dad to get me at the airport. He didn’t come, of course.” He places his hand over hers and squeezes. A second. Two Three. She squeezes back.

“I was so angry, Bellamy. All the time. Not just at my mother. I was angry at Wells. At my teachers. At myself, mostly.” She extracts her hand from under his and rubs at her tears furiously. He reaches out and pulls the shades off her face and places it at the dashboard. Her eyes are red-rimmed and bright. She grins at him, a little shakily, but it’s there. “It got better, of course. But never completely.”

Silence. One second. Two. Three. Five. Ten. Twenty.

“You okay?” he probes.

One. Two.

“Yeah.”

“And you asked why I started talking to Octavia? I saw her by the swings one day and I guess I kind of just thought I should. She looked angry. Like I used to be. Still kind of was. I sat next to her and we started talking.” Bellamy laughs, dry. _Of course, Clarke would._ “I was fooling myself, though. She was handling her shit better than I ever did. And I never understood why. And then I met you.”

“You were completely floored by me?”

“Oh, yeah.” She snorts. “Completely.” She sobers a little. “I was jealous. I had Wells and I love Wells. But he was kind of biased. He wants the best for me and he thinks the best thing for me is to make up with my mother. And he’s probably right. But I want to be angry for a while. And I can’t expect him to be okay with it.”

He nods and understands. He’s surprised that he does, but he really does.

“So you aren’t jealous anymore?”

“No.” she grins at him, bright and beautiful. “Now I have you too.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue, his own fucked up story. But it kind of gets twisted up in his mouth. She trusted him with her story and he trusts her with his. But it doesn’t feel right to unload on her like that when she’s this way. He'll tell her eventually, he's sure.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks instead.

It surprises a laugh out of her. She swipes at any remaining tears and looks at him.

“Happy birthday, Bellamy.”

They stop in front of the biggest house he’s ever seen. It’s spotless and clean and looks like something a production company built for a James Bond movie or something.

“You’re fucking rich, Griffin.”

She shrugs but he feels the nervous energy practically vibrate off of her. Somehow he feels like she’s showing him another part of her. Telling him another secret. “Yeah.”

“And your mom?”

“She knows. Don’t worry. She’s away for a few days. She’s trying to make up for everything, I guess. It’s nice of her.” She shrugs again, a bit more forcefully than before. “I’ll talk to her.”

He’s looking around because, fuck, the house is beautiful and the _paintings_.

“Don’t nerd out now. There are people who want to see you.”

He chuckles. “That’s a first.”

“Tell that to the hoard of girls swooning around you every morning.”

He whips his head around exaggeratedly. “Are they all conveniently here? I wouldn’t put an orgy past you. You’re disturbingly in my personal space.”

“You wish. It’s just you and me and our annoying friends. Is that okay?” She sounds strangely nervous, though. Like she could possibly do something for him he wouldn’t like.

He smiles softly at her and takes her hand. “It’s fine.”

It’s perfect.

~

“I wish you would stop looking at Clarke like the sun shines out of her ass. It’s sad and it’s ruining my night,” Raven says about four drinks and thirty minutes later.

“ _Happy birthday, Bellamy. I’m glad I’m being nice to you on this special day_ ,” he replies in a high pitched, terrible imitation of her voice. It’s not like he can help how he looks at Clarke. He would’ve done something about it if he could.

“I would tell you to ask her out but she’s dating Niylah.”

“Just a swell day all around,” he mutters darkly.

She nudges him and he knows that she’s just a little tipsy because she’s being affectionate, or whatever counts as affectionate for Raven. “For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you guys.”

He smiles at her. “Me too.”

“Happy birthday, man,” Miller says for the fifth time that day. That’s how Bellamy knows he’s really drunk.

“See that’s how you do it,” he points out to Raven, who isn’t listening. She’s texting Wells who’s sick with the flu. He sent him an edible arrangement earlier in the day, apologizing for not being able to wish him in person. He loves his rich friends.

“Clarke’s friend is really cute.” Bellamy grins into his drink. Miller is just drunk enough to stare openly at Brian. He thinks he might be Clarke’s second cousin. Apparently, he came for the booze and is staying for Miller.

Raven tilts her neck and assesses Brian, who is talking to Monty from across the room. “Brian? The guy who looks like a white Bellamy?”

Bellamy snorts. “If you wanted me so badly you just had to ask.”

Millers groans. “Tempting. But Brian isn’t completely awful.”

“Nobody has any grasp of the birthday thing, huh?” Bellamy says mildly affronted.

“I’m going to talk to the cute boy. Clarke is coming over. Go be pathetic.”

“I appreciate you both,” he yells after Raven and Miller’s retreating backs.

“How do you like it so far?” He grins at her and stretches out his hands. She looks at it, amused, before she takes it. He doesn’t know where he’s going. The house is big. It makes him feel like he’s going to break something if he stays inside too long. So, he leads her outside right where they came in from, out to the porch.

Clarke blows a raspberry and smiles, eyes glassy, at the empty space in front of her. She’s so beautiful. He’s so glad she’s here with him.

She points at the night sky. “That’s Sirius.”

He follows her line of vision and chuckles. “No, it’s not,” he says.

She frowns at him. “It isn’t?”

“Nope. Just a collection of stars.”

She shrugs with her whole body and leans on him. He puts his arm around her and rests his cheek on the crown of her head. “Sure is pretty, anyway.”

She hums a song that’s familiar and he hums along, just because.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me,” he whispers. He’s transfixed by his own breath coming out in puffs. Everything feels a little hazy and easy. It feels perfect. They should stay this way forever.

"You know me. Always giving," Clarke deadpans.

“My mom died a year ago,” he breathes.

Clarke barely moves but he can feel her heave a sigh against him. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and her heads moves with him. “It was hard. We moved in with Kane. And he’s fine but I keep waiting for the ball to drop. I think he owed my mother something. I don’t know the details. But I’m scared all the time, Clarke. I know I should be brave for Octavia. But I don’t feel it.”

“Bellamy.” His name is nothing more than an exhale but he feels like she understands. He loves her for it.

“I think I’m going to have to get a job after school. Take care of Octavia. Move out, I don’t know.” He hasn’t told anyone. But it makes sense that Clarke is the first.

“What about that scholarship? You applied for it.”

“Yeah. But Octavia. I can’t leave her alone, Clarke.”

She looks up at him, so incredibly sad. If she wasn’t holding his hand, he would have reached out and touched her face. She would have leaned into his hand. He could kiss her. “I want to say that you can trust her with me—“

“Clarke—“

“—but I know you. You don’t think you deserve good things for yourself if everyone you love doesn’t get it first. I think you deserve the best but you’re not going to listen to me. And, god, I can’t blame you because your situation is so shitty. But Bellamy. You can’t sacrifice your life like this. It breaks my heart.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know if I have the right to tell you this because, god knows, I’ll get everything I want. But I want so badly for you to be happy. I want that.”

Bellamy tries to swallow the lump in his throat but it hurts and he finds himself blinking back tears before he can stop it.

“Promise me, you’ll try.”

It feels dangerous, but he still does. “I promise.”

She nods once and rests her head back on his shoulder.

“Hypothetically,” he tries, “even with a full ride, books cost money.”

He feels her grin when she turns into him. “Hypothetically, you could a job.”

“Hypothetically, I could.”

“Hypothetically, what would you major in?”

“Hypothetically?” he asks, “History.”

“I knew it.”

She’s silent so he cranes her neck to look at her. Her eyes are half shut and her breathing is slow and even and his own vision is blurry with sleep. He could keep looking at her. He wants to.

“I’ll love you forever, I think.” She smells like cheap beer and looks like a miracle about to happen. “You’re my best friend.”

He thinks about that for a second

He mostly says it to himself but he doesn’t mind if she hears it. “I love you, Clarke.”

He’s eighteen years old and in love with Clarke Griffin.

 

 ~

“How’s Niylah?” he asks her one day when she’s over. Octavia is laughing at something her friend is saying on the phone, and it feels comfortable. It feels like home.

Turns out being in love with Clarke Griffin is something you get used to.

“We broke up last week,” she says with casualness he knows is forced. It makes him stop short.

“Oh.” He turns to look at her. She slightly flushed. She doesn’t look sad, but he still has to make sure. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” If she sounded like she needed to, Bellamy wouldn’t have dropped it so easily. But as it happens, she sounds fine. He feels like a shitty person for being so relieved.

“That was around my birthday?”

Her eyes widen, fractionally. Enough to know that she’s keeping something from him.

“Yeah. Why?”

He knows her enough not to pry. “Nothing,” he says.

“I’m going to get some fries,” Clarke declares.

Clarke hates fries.

~

"Bellamy?" Kane calls. He can count on one hand how many conversations he’s had with him since they’d met a year ago. He tries not to still at his words but he can’t help it.

"Yeah?"

“Your scholarship got approved?” Kane asks him. 

“That doesn’t matter. I’m not going,” he replies, an air of finality in his voice.

Kane frowns. “Why not? I’ll pay for your books or whatever you need.”

“It’s not the money.”

“What is it?”

Bellamy huffs in frustration. “Octavia.”

Marcus sighs. “You don’t trust her with me.”

Bellamy tries to shrug it off but it’s not a thing he can shrug off. It’s his sister. “You can understand why.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Bellamy wonders if it’s enough to make him drop it. It seemed to be enough all year.

“Your mother was my best friend. My mother loved her. So did I,” he says, “I left her months before you were born. I wanted to go out, live a little. Fulfil my big city dreams. She was nothing but supportive. By the time I heard about Octavia's father, it was too late for me to waltz back into her life. With all the drugs and…” he trails off awkward. “I was too guilty. If I’m being honest, it all felt dirty to me.” He waits for the sting of his words but it doesn’t. He wonders if he should feel bad about that, vaguely. Decides it doesn’t matter. “Kept telling myself I’d make it up to her. I never did.”

He rubs at his neck. “You kids are doing me a favor. If you want to stay here with Octavia, I don’t blame you. But please, reconsider.”

He nods at him, stiff. It kind of feels like he’s on the verge of something. Like the next thought he has is going to change his entire life. Kane claps him on his back and leaves.

~

Bellamy is staring at the acceptance letter. He has the urge to either burn or frame it. There’s a passing thought, that it’d all be easier if Clarke were here. As it is, she doesn’t know about it either.

“Bell?” he hears his sister call out.

He swivels around in his chair. It squeaks a little. He registers that this room is starting to feel like home too. “Yeah?”

She’s leaning against his bedroom door-frame. She looks sad. A little withdrawn. Like she’s lost something. It reminds him of when she first heard that their mother wasn’t coming back. It breaks his heart.  “You have to go,” she chokes out.

Bellamy’s hands tighten on the paper on its own accord. “If you wanted me out of the house so bad, you just have to ask,” he jokes. Octavia isn’t laughing.

“Bellamy,” she warns.

He releases his grip on the letter and smooths it out against his table. “I know.”

“I’ll be fine here with Kane. I formed a tentative bond with him while you were out with Clarke.”

He glances at her. She doesn’t look like she’s lying for his benefit. If anything, she looks almost hopeful. “Really?”

“He isn’t bad. Did he tell you that story about him and mom?”

“Yeah.”

She looks at him, softer than he’s ever known her to be. “I want you to be happy.” And then, “Please.”

And then, it hits him. Maybe he does deserve his own shot at happiness. If Clarke and Octavia and Miller and Raven and Kane and Wells think so— that many people can’t be wrong, can they? And maybe, there's a little bit in there for himself. The urge to do something, _be_ something he wants to be. Not needs to be.8

“Okay.”

She grins at him, face tear-stained, fierce in a way that makes him think of all the Greek mythology he's ever read to her. He's doing this. He gets up to hug her but she beats him to it, running up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He realizes how tall she’s grown. It makes him cry. He’s _crying_. It feels a lot like relief. His heart's already mending. 

She hears him sniff but doesn’t loosen her grip on him. He’s grateful. He’s going to miss her. But he’s still leaving. And that’s more than he thought he could ever manage.

“Okay," he repeats, just because it's true. 

~

He’s packed a few boxes when he realizes that he doesn’t have that many things. Ark U isn’t that far away. He can come visit every few weeks. He loves what he’s leaving behind. He still can’t believe he does. It’s more home than he’s ever known. A year ago, the thought wouldn’t have even occurred to him.

Speaking of things he loves, Clarke is waiting by her car. She barely drives it, but they’re going out a final time this weekend before he leaves and public transport doesn’t afford much privacy.

“So you’re really leaving, huh?” she asks when he settles in. The car smells less new and more like her. He's giving driving a go this time. Just to try it. It feels like a day for new things.

“Yeah.”               

“Just like that.”

“To be fair, I did graduate.” He looks over at her. “That is a thing I did.”

She shoves at him lightly. “I’ll miss you,” she says. He doesn’t miss the way her voice cracks. He just chooses to ignore it. His own heart is breaking.

“Don’t get sappy on me, Griffin.”

“I could never out-sap you, Bellamy.” She snorts as she wipes roughly at her cheek. He’s relieved to hear her laughing. He’ll definitely miss that. “I’m really going to miss you.”

He wants to tell her that he’ll miss her too. More than he’d ever thought possible. More than he knows. He’s probably underestimating how much he’s going to miss her. Instead he says, “Get better at oral.”

“I hate you.” She doesn’t.

“We’ll skype every other day,” he says sobering a little.

She makes a kind of strangled sound and he knows she’s trying not to cry. “You’re going to get sick of me.”

“Never,” he says. And it’s true. And it’s always true.

“You’re my best friend.”

He smiles. He’s heard it before but it never hurts hearing it again. “Don’t let Wells hear that.”

“Shut up,” she scolds, “You’re a different kind of best friend. I’m lucky to know you.”

He flushes slightly at her intent gaze. Unflinching. Honest. It makes his heart ache a little. “I’m not that great,” he teases.

She smiles at him, soft.  “Take the goddamn compliment, Blake.”

There’s a long pause. He thinks of telling her the truth. But he’s not ready and neither is she. _Soon_ , he promises himself. For some reason, he doesn’t feel like he’s lying to himself anymore. So, he settles on a different truth.

See, he knows Clarke. He knows her differently than he once thought he knew her. He knows she sometimes drinks Vanilla lattes when she thinks no one is watching. She’s rich and she’ll never take it for granted. She knows all the constellations but can’t find them in the sky and she hates when people see her cry. He knows she wants to dye her hair blue, half to piss her mother off, half because she really likes blue. She knows she loves with her whole heart and she throws shitty parties for her friends just because she wants to see them smile. She’s kind and smart and too competitive for her own good. And she cares. God, she cares. He doesn’t really know anyone like her.

She’s his best friend.

“You’re mine too,” says Bellamy.

“Hm?”

“You’re my best friend, too,” he pauses to clear his throat. “The only kind.”

“I love you,” Clarke says suddenly. He looks over at her. She’s ducking her head, suddenly very interested in the details of her seat-belt. His own hands tightens on the steering wheel. He swallows and it doesn’t taste bitter. She doesn’t love him the way he loves her. But she does. And that’s a lot.

“Oh.”

He considers her for a second longer. She’s fidgety but confident in a way Bellamy could never manage. The way she cares about him, it makes him feel like he’s home more than any one place possibly could. It occurs to Bellamy, sudden and sharp and absurdly obvious, that he’s glad he knows her too.

He’ll miss her. He loves her. He loves her. He loves— “I love you too.”

He’s eighteen and Clarke is seventeen and she loves him and he’s in love with her.

But that’s okay.

He sees her smile at him from the corner of his eyes. The kind he’s never seen her use in front of anyone else. The kind that’s just for him.

It’s enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for any mistakes.  
> *Jason Rothenberg voice* I'm still learning. 
> 
> find me [on tumblr](https://www.idontgiveaneffie.tumblr.com)


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